


bangkok lullaby

by ka_na_ri_ya



Category: SBFIVE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ka_na_ri_ya/pseuds/ka_na_ri_ya
Summary: The first time they meet, Copter’s face to face with the dark barrel of a gun and he dives down in an instant.
Relationships: Copter Panuwat Kerdthongtavee/Kimmon Varodom Khemmonta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	bangkok lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to kiwibunnie for listening to me rant and moan about this fic 💜

The first time they meet, Copter’s face to face with the dark barrel of a gun and he dives down in an instant. Wood sprays everywhere from where the bullet cracks the door frame and chucks of the wood land in his hair. So much for leaving no trace. The sleek silver suitcase falls from his grip, clattering to the floor, and he internally curses at his carelessness.

A quiet “tsk” follows and he spins around on the balls of his sneakers, drawing his own gun out quickly at the culprit.

By the time he stands up and faces them, he's met with the barrel pointed directly at his chest. Attached to said gun is Kimmon, dressed to the nines in his smart, black suit. The lights of the Bangkok nightscape illuminate behind him through the floor to ceiling windows, casting a glow and he’s beautiful -- all lean legs and tall, his hair combed meticulously back. He looks more like a model off the runway instead of a killer.

Copter grits his teeth, holding his gun steady towards Kimmon’s heart. Annoyance floods through him at how a simple mission has turned so awry. He takes a few quick seconds to assess the situation. He knows this is a stalemate now and that maybe this wouldn't go anywhere. But he’s sure he has the upper hand here. Kimmon would have shot him again when he was attempting to draw out his weapon, but didn't.

"Drop your gun."

Kimmon tilts his head, staring at him with a look Copter can only describe as curious. He flicks his eyes down at Kimmon's neck for a second, following the elegant line of it till it disappears underneath the buttoned up collar. Maybe he stares longer than he meant to because when their eyes meet, Kimmon’s mouth curves up into a devastating smile, “Now aren’t you a little young to be playing with a big toy like that?”

"Old enough."

He doesn’t drop his gun, but smiles wider. Copter can understand the whispered rumors about him in various circles, of his successful kill rate and death count. That seemingly innocent face can seduce any target, an unwitting mouse under the trap of a beguiling snake.

Copter’s met his share of beautiful people, in their line of work there are many. But something in him shakes at the look in Kimmon’s eyes. It shoots him to his core and a sense of thrill travels down his spine.

“I’ve heard of you,” Kimmon goes on, all casual as if they're both not pointing weapons at each other, “A university student who somehow got entangled into this business. What were you studying? I’ve always been curious as to your reasoning when you had such a promising future ahead of you.”

A beatific smile makes its way to his face and his eyes are turned up like half crescent moons, almost like a kind friend asking after your well being. His voice is silk smooth and soft, beguiling, it wraps around his throat. Copter wants to shoot his face off, livid at his comments on matters that he chooses to not think about, and yet he pauses. Those eyes exude a warmth, lulling Copter under his spell.

Kimmon taps a finger to his bottom mouth and hums, though his gun is still pointed straight at Copter’s chest, “Word around town is that--”

“Shut the _fuck_ up or I’ll shoot.”

“O?”

He cocks his head and fuck, that smile of his, along with those eyes gleaming in mirth. Copter's caught in them.

Like a snake slithering in the grass before it strikes, Kimmon slowly moves forward with deliberate steps, his pristine dress shoes clicking across the marble and it echoes in the silence. Copter is confused at what he's trying here -- the man fucks with all his instincts -- but then Kimmon lowers his gun and in that millisecond, Copter pulls the trigger.

But he misses and the next thing he knows, Kimmon’s fist meets his gut and he drops his gun like some goddamn rookie, grunting from the pain and shock. Copter wraps his arms tight around Kimmon's waist and knees him, yet somehow he’s unfazed. Like all these fights, it turns more into a grapple of who has the upperhand. It’s never like how it is in the movies with coordinated punches and kicks, but an inelegant fight of growls and dull hard punches.

With all his strength, he slams Kimmon into one of the marble columns that line the room and strikes more blows. Suddenly a hand grips around the back of his neck and he’s yanked backwards, thrown a few feet away across the floor. Disoriented, the room spins in circles around him and he attempts to get his bearings, but a heavy weight and heat surrounds him. Once his vision clears, he realizes it’s Kimmon sitting atop his waist.

His hair is in slight disarray, a lock curling over his forehead, but otherwise he doesn't look as if Copter pummeled him into the wall. Copter tries to kick him off, but to no avail, Kimmon sits like an iron grip around him.

Those eyes of his are burning bright with excitement, blazing Copter in its path and searing through him.

 _This is it_. Kimmon will probably choke him, shoot him in the head, burn his body up, whichever. He accepted his inevitable death long ago, but he didn't expect it to end like this in what was supposed to be a simple fucking mission. It's almost humiliating after all that he's been through.

Kimmon creeps a hand along Copter's chest and he lets out a shuddery breath. Maybe he can grab that delicate wrist and snap it in half. His hands are free after all, he realizes, and he slowly lifts them up.

"I wouldn't do whatever you're thinking of doing if I were you."

Copter throws a punch in one last attempt, but Kimmon grapples him back down and holds a tight grip of his wrists in his hand. He's surprisingly strong with how slender he looks in that suit.

"I should kill you for blowing my client's brains out. Made it very inconvenient," Kimmon murmurs, pulling down the zipper of Copter's hoodie all the way down. His hand rubs the threadbare shirt and the heat from his palm soaks beneath it. A stray finger rubs his nipple and Copter steels his glare at him.

"Then fucking do it."

The smirk is back on his face and Kimmon leans down close. Colorful lights from the skyscrapers outside throw his face in a soft relief and he looks unreal, like an unworldly being.

"Don't want to."

The heat of Kimmon’s mouth brushes his and his mouth falls open, tasting an electric bitterness. Copter wants to palm that slender throat and his fingers in Kimmon's grip slightly brush it. It's smooth and yet rough with stubble.

A sudden, sharp pinch blooms in his side and he breaks away gasping, glancing down to see a gun with a silencer at the end of it. He thought Kimmon had dropped it somewhere in their fight, but apparently not. Blood is spreading like spilled wine across his shirt and a numbness takes over his brain, stunned at how careless he was to let this happen to him. He stares back up again, meeting Kimmon's sweet, velvety eyes.

With a small smile, Kimmon kisses the corner of his mouth as he starts to sit back and Copter scrambles his fingers to the silk lapels, attempting to maintain his grip. He can't let him get away and yet he can sense all the energy leaving him. Kimmon pulls back to stand up, his hand stroking Copter’s cheek with a soft tenderness and all Copter can see are those long, elegant legs that he wants wrapped around his waist.

The sudden pain hits him like a cannonball and Copter presses his palm over it to keep the pressure, hissing out a breath, "Thought you didn't wanna kill me."

"Hm? I didn't," Kimmon lips turn up in amusement, like a secret, private smile for Copter, "It's just a scratch. You’ll be fine."

"You fucker."

"You should call your friend to take care of that before you bleed out," Kimmon bends down to pick up the silver suitcase of diamonds that Copter had snagged earlier. He attempts to crawl after him, but the agony wins over and he’s sprawled across the marble, his fingers brushing Kimmon’s feet. Everything is spinning so fast, a kaleidoscope of colors swimming in his vision.

“Goodbye Copter.”

Then he walks out.

Fuck.

\--

Copter flutters his eyes open, the fluorescent light blinding his vision and he groans at the brightness.

"O fucking finally," he looks to his side with bleary eyes and is met with Tee's bespectacled face. On his lap is an open sudoku book, halfway filled. Copter surmises those pages must have been solved as Tee waited for him to recover; he’s seen Tee solve books of these within a matter of hours. With an aggressive sigh, he shoves his pen in the pages, closing it shut before tossing it to the ground and crosses his arms over his chest, eyes filled with concern.

"What the fuck happened?"

The headache is back tenfold and Copter rubs at his brow, "Nothing. You found me in the end."

"Yea well…" Tee sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his head, his brow furrowed in worry, "Lucky we got to you in time, you were bleeding everywhere.”

“What about the diamonds?”

“He wasn’t pleased that you lost that. But, you took care of the main target. The diamonds were extra collateral.”

“Shit,” Copter shifts back, sitting up in worry, “Is there--?”

“We still owe him for that loss. Other jobs, don’t worry.”

"Huh.” Copter stares up at the strip of fluorescent light above them. He swears he can see the white beams of electricity flowing and buzzing through the current. Aside from that, he senses Tee wanting to add in his two cents and waits it out.

It doesn’t take very long.

“How can you get hurt in something like last night?”

“Shit happens.”

“No. You’ve never been hurt in a straightforward mission like this before.”

“And I said, _shit happens_ ,” Copter snaps. Tee glares and slaps his arm, leaving behind a stinging sensation, "What am I supposed to do if the next time this happens and you're across the world? You're lucky it was here for us to clean up after your shit."

Contrite, he presses his lips together and turns away.

“Don’t fuck it up next time.”

\--

Those lips and how they impishly curve up haunt Copter’s dreams. He finds himself touching his bottom lip without realizing it, the heat of Kimmon’s breath staining him.

So of course, how does he stay away after that?

\--

Macau is glamorous and wondrous wrapped in one.

Despite the centuries old buildings and roads, there are hundreds of high-end stores that fit in with the old Portuguese façades. Tall five star hotels and high rise buildings dominate the scenery, squished in and forced to all fit on this tiny piece of land, yet somehow it’s still magnificent. With the millions of tourists that roam around, he’s able to fit in with the crowd as he makes his way down the cobbled stone streets.

The last time he was here on vacation was when he was seven, but he barely remembers it aside from when he wailed after his hat had blown into the bay from a strong gust of wind. His mother held him close for the rest of the day and he still recalls the feeling of protectiveness in her embrace.

A light sprinkle of rain starts to drizzle down and washes a golden glow on the stone from the yellow street lamps, as if another city floats beneath them. People scramble for their umbrellas in their bags or duck under the few awnings they can find. Copter pulls his hood up, concealing his hair, and adjusts his face mask to avoid it getting wet.

He makes a left into a smaller street and it's darker here with the abundance of trees that block out the lights and moon. Restaurants are bustling with customers seeking refuge and the windows fog up from the combination of humid rain and cool air inside.

The path turns into a steep hill and he starts up it as quick as he can, though the drizzle starts to pick up into a more heavy downpour. Raindrops begin to collect into the crevices of his jacket, sticking to him like a second skin.

He approaches the apartment -- small balconies on all the faces of the building, a collection of bits and stories of each home. A few of them are outside dragging their laundry into their place, to rescue them from the rain.

To avoid looking suspicious as he waits for the metal gate to open, he stands under an awning of the closed cafe shop next door. Luckily, Copter doesn’t end up standing long. A woman hurries her way straight to the apartment, holding her purse above her head and her heels loudly clack against the stone. Once she manages to unlock it, Copter sneaks up behind her and slips his hand in before the gate shuts. The rain outside is muffled now and he makes his way up the stairs.

Something strong and oily is cooking in one of the apartments and the heavy smell of wafts downwards. Muted sounds of music reverberate between the walls, some old Chinese song that he's heard every once in a while in his travels.

He steps onto the eighth floor landing, removing his mask and taking in a deep breath from all the flights of stairs he took to get here.

Three knocks to the door at the end of the hallway and he waits.

It creaks open and Kimmon is there, his dress shirt partially undone halfway to reveal his white undershirt. His other hand is behind him, but when their eyes meet, the cautious look on his face fades away and he relaxes his hand, revealing a small handgun. Gives Copter a once over and he smirks, “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He doesn’t seem surprised that Copter is here, giving him a warm smile like they’re old friends reuniting. Not replying or giving a shit that he’s dripping wet, Copter steps in and they’re toe to toe. Peering up, he can see every mark and blemish on Kimmon's otherwise smooth skin. He slowly blinks, staring down at him in amusement and his eyes evoke a memory in Copter of the marbles he used to play with as a child. All these months, he’s dreamt about them and how they looked under the Bangkok lights, wanting to press his lips to those dark mole under his eye.

They stand quiet for a few moments and the spell breaks when Kimmon takes a few steps back.

“How did you find me?” He lets go of the door and it shuts behind them.

“You’re careless.”

Kimmon’s eyes widen for a moment, the surprise clear in them, and then it melts away. He shrugs, turning away towards a table where his case of guns lay and waves a casual hand, “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

He removes the clip from his gun with deft fingers and his hands are a contradiction. They’re manly and strong, the veins of his hands bulge out due to his tight grip. Yet his fingers are long and graceful, reminding Copter of the old paintings of Thai folklore as the figures hold their hands up to the sky. Coughing into a fist, he drops his bag beside him and bends down to remove his shoes, “You could get killed for that.”

“I like the challenge.”

“That’s fucking s--”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you when you were still growing into puberty and probably had your first kiss,” Kimmon’s voice is cool and when he turns to face Copter again, the harsh curve of his eyes emphasize the sharpness in them, “And it’s none of your business.”

He’s not wrong. They don’t even know each other and Copter wants to back peddle out of the apartment, embarrassment flooding through him. Quick as a wink, Kimmon smiles again and swipes a towel from the table, tossing it towards him, “Dry yourself off.”

“Thanks.”

It’s quiet, but to Copter everything is so loud. The droll rhythm of the rain is slowly getting heavier. He senses Kimmon’s gaze travelling up and down as if he’s physically touching him, seeing through him despite the sodden clothes he wears.

"Looks like tonight went well," he says in lieu of conversation.

“Of course. It’s a given.”

The way he says it, it’s a low purr, all pleased and smooth as silk. He peeks over at him and sees Kimmon canting his hips to the table. The position emphasizes his broad shoulders and his lean frame, the long legs that cross over. There’s a cocky languidness in his movements and his eyes are glassy with happiness with how well it went. It’s a familiar feeling, that heady high after a successful kill, when everything works out perfectly and something Copter’s chased for however long he’s been doing this. Something that only happens when confronted with the nature of death.

"Do you want tea? Coffee? Not that I know anything about the kitchen here, but I could try to find something."

He wants neither, to be quite frank. Copter drops the towel to the floor and gives him a long look.

“Hmm. Rude. Those were a gift.”

Copter rushes forward and grabs Kimmon’s face in between his hands, their mouths meeting in a clash of teeth. He swallows the gasp of surprise and doesn't let go, sliding his fingers into that soft, thick hair. This is so much different than their first kiss, but Copter would barely count it as a kiss. That one was more of a brush of hot air and temptation, the light brush of lips even though it tainted his dreams for months. But this kiss-- this kiss is harder, harsher, piercing and it ebbs away the knot of nerves that he’s been feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’s been unable to appease with others. Kimmon kisses like an expert, his tongue curling against his, quick and sure. The rain outside is heavily pouring now and its steady patter drowns out the thoughts in his head.

Kimmon’s hands wrap around his waist, dragging him in closer until their hips line up and he knows his jacket is soaking right through. He bites on Kimmon’s bottom lip, relishing the smell of the minty bath soap that he must have used earlier, the vague scent of a spicy cologne.

Hands travel underneath his jacket, pulling his shirt upwards and touching his skin, leaving a scorched trail. Copter pulls back and Kimmon’s staring at him with fervent eyes. His lips are bitten red and the light pink flush on his cheeks add to the enticing image he makes.

Fuck.

They tumble into the bedroom, fighting for dominance on the stark, white sheets and tearing their clothes apart. It’s difficult when they can’t keep their mouths apart from each other, but Copter manages to, nearly ripping Kimmon’s undershirt to pieces.

"God, you’re wet aren’t you?" Kimmon whispers, mouth curved up against Copter’s like he thinks he said something so clever, but it’s not, and his fingers unzip Copter's sodden jacket. He’s only wearing his briefs now and Copter can’t stop touching the smooth curve of his waist, digging his fingers in them and biting the corner of his mouth. For someone experienced in this field, Kimmon’s body is more on the soft side with the subtle hint of abs and strong, thick muscles along his arms. Impatient, Copter shoves him back and climbs over, pinning him down with his legs. Water droplets from his jacket drip all over Kimmon’s bare skin and he shudders from the coolness of it.

Copter leans down, licking along the path of water that trails down his skin and Kimmon gasps at the small bites that Copter leaves. He slips his fingers under the hem of those briefs, teasing kisses along Kimmon’s hips as he yanks the pants down and pulls them off until Kimmon’s naked.

His state of nudity is meant to be admired, all long, slender legs leading up to a slim waist and broad, muscular shoulders. Kimmon’s looking down at him with hooded eyes and he’s pinching his bottom lip. Copter rubs a hand along his inner thigh, spreading them apart and Kimmon is so pliable. His cock isn't hard yet though, laying between his thighs and it's almost fucking insulting, Copter thinks.

“You got stuff?” Kimmon asks, voice soft and hoarse.

Copter pauses his movements.

“Fuck. No.”

“Hmm, too bad. Me neither,” Kimmon sits up, sliding off Copter’s jacket for him, then pushes him down by the shoulders and lays his head into the crook of his neck. His soft hair tickles Copter and he swallows at the sensation of it. Kimmon rubs a hand down Copter's chest, seducing him with long fingers that dance across his skin.

“But that’s ok, we can do other things. You're clean right?” he whispers, deft fingers unfastening Copter’s jeans. Copter nods, unsure of what to do with his hands now and focuses on the soft lips pressing light kisses to his neck. All of the sudden, Kimmon spits into his hand and slips it under Copter’s briefs, wrapping a wet fist around him.

“ _Shit_ ,” Copter gasps and his back is taut, all curved, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Kimmon shushes him and his mouth is smearing hot air across his cheek, “You’re so sweet, tracking me down and finding me and now we’re here,” he kisses the corner of Copter’s mouth, the warm weight of his hand is tight and he doesn’t stop moving at his fast pace, “So flattering, I would think you have a crush on me.”

“Fuck off,” Copter growls and that cuts off into a low groan at the delicious twist on his cock. Kimmon chuckles, breath tickling his ear and he shudders from it.

“Come on relax, when’s the last time you fucked someone?” he slows his hand, spreading Copter’s wetness with his fingers and thumbing the slit, coaxing more to leak out. Teeth bite his earlobe, a lick. Copter shuts his eyes and tucks his face into Kimmon’s neck and all he smells is mint, “Must’ve been a while, you always seem so windup like you have a stick up your ass.”

“The _fuck_ \--” Copter snaps and bites Kimmon’s collarbone to keep his groan from coming out when Kimmon tightens his hold again. Not wanting to seem like he’s in a losing battle, he reaches down and wraps a clumsy hand around Kimmon’s cock. It’s gotten hard by now, dribbling with precome from rubbing against Copter’s pants and fuck, his pants are going to be in ruins by the end of this.

Kimmon doesn’t have any qualms about keeping quiet, letting out a high pitched moan and he bites Copter’s earlobe harder, tongue slick against his neck.

“Fuck fuckfuck, keep going, just like that _ahaa--ah._ ”

It goes on like this, both of them jerking each other off and sweat building between their bodies, the clamminess sticking to each other. Copter's shirt adheres to him uncomfortably, he wishes he removed his pants fully but it's still fucking good. Kimmon's breathy gasps on his face and neck only adds to the heady atmosphere in the air. All he hears is the soft sound of exhalations and the wet drags of their cocks, underneath the heavy downpour. It’s just them in an isolated bubble of pleasure and nothing else exists.

Eventually they come, Kimmon sighing into Copter’s neck as he hits his climax and Copter bites his lower lip, not wanting to let out a sound. The come smears between them, all slick and sticky. He pulls his tacky hand back, wiping it on the leg of his pants and crinkles his nose at how disgusting they are more than ever.

Kimmon though, brings his hand up and licks any trace of Copter with his tongue between his fingers.

If Copter hadn’t come yet, he’s sure that image alone would have set him off.

With one last suck and drawing his finger out, Kimmon grabs for the sheet underneath them and pulls it over.

“You’re not going to wash yourself off?”

Kimmon shrugs, his bare shoulder coming up and the sweat along his collarbone is distracting, “I figured you might want to do that first before you leave.”

Copter concedes he does have a point.

It’s a quick wash and his jeans are a lost cause, but he’s been through worse. When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds Kimmon fast asleep. The sheets are tangled around him and he looks so innocent, all curled up around his pillow. His short lashes hang low over his cheek and Copter rubs a thumb along where his brow is furrowed, smoothing out underneath. Making a whiny sound, Kimmon smacks his lips and turns over to the other side. There’s a faded scar that runs along his back and it’s not a shock that he would have it, Copter has a few of his own. But a scar this long and deep, it must have been painful and he wonders what the story is behind it.

He traces the jagged edge of it, running his finger downward until it reaches the top edge of the sheet and stops there. Kimmon still hasn’t moved, instead steadily breathing in a way that indicates that he is deep in his sleep, vulnerable to anybody. Copter could shoot him right now and he’d have no idea.

Instead he notices the open suitcase of crisp, green US dollars in the corner of the room. He almost wants to laugh out loud at Kimmon’s carelessness.

And while Kimmon may have given the best orgasm he’s ever had in a while, he still fucking shot him and stole his diamonds.

\--

Kabukicho is alive at night, with its luminous, colorful billboards and neon signs enticing customers to come into bars and nightclubs that hide the seediness of the soap lands and prostitutes that lurk there. Deafening music escapes from the windows out into the streets and people are hustling in between bars with their group of friends, while couples sneak their way into the love hotels.

It’s perfect because the revelry stifles the shot and through the telescopic sight, Copter’s target collapses in his bedroom, blood spreading across the floor underneath his head. It's quick and he's dead before he hits the ground. Copter’s always merciful with his kills. Nobody's heard the gunshot through the noisy night air, everyone still walking around as normal. He slides the window shut and dissembles his sniper rifle in quick movements before placing them into the open suitcase that’s by him.

After he makes sure no trace of him in the room is left behind, he walks out and runs down the narrow concrete steps. It’s humid outside, no different from home, but there is a lack of aroma that comes from noisy restaurants that are more common over there than here in Tokyo. Once in a while, there is a yearning for when he used to sit in the low plastic chairs with knees poking high up. Sharing a meal on the rickety tables with his friends as they lamented over exams or stared at the beautiful chef that prepared their noodle soups in her cart.

Tee had set up a place for him to stay in another ward and he needs to head over there as fast as he can, far from this location. When he steps out of the building, there’s still no commotion and he turns right, blending in with the rest of the locals and tourists walking around the clean streets. There’s such a variety of people here that him walking with a suitcase doesn’t make him stand out.

Someone hands him a tissue pack, promoting a phone or some robot, and he quietly thanks them, stuffing it into his jacket. The rectangular billboards are blinking and shining brightly above promoters in elaborate costumes, who stand in front of the bars and strip clubs. Everything and everyone is colored pink, yellow, green, and whatever else, shining from the glow of the lights.

A tingly feeling travels down his spine and he glances around the crowd behind him. Nobody is staring, all on their phones or straight forward, but he can’t help to feel like someone is. This feeling keeps up for another few minutes and he turns into a dark street, wanting to confront whoever it is and take care of it.

Suddenly, he’s dragged to the side by an aggressive hand and a hand clamps over his mouth. Copter quickly reacts, elbowing the person and a deep grunt follows that, releasing him. He twists around to back kick whoever it is, but then is pushed against the wall, the hard cement digging into the upper muscles of his back.

Kimmon’s smirk turns into a slow smile and the lone streetlight nearby shines his eyes.

Breathing fast, Copter attempts to push him back by kicking his legs, but that doesn’t deter him at all. He steps closer and Copter feels his breath against his cheek.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

"You stole my money," Kimmon pouts and it’s fucking ridiculous that this is a man considered to be one of the deadliest hitmen in Southeast Asia. Copter rolls his eyes to express his displeasure and he swears the moue protrudes further, "How rude after you made sweet _sweet_ love to me."

God.

“You deserved that,” Copter hisses out and tries to push him back again, but he’s deceptively strong. It’s aggravating how it doesn’t seem to take him much effort to hold Copter back, “Did you forget what you did first?”

“That’s what that was about? I shot you, so you fuck me and then steal my money?” He looks hurt, which is so confounding, and Copter wants to punch him. Instead, he scoffs.

“You’re lucky I didn’tshoot you. And we didn't fuck if you remember.”

“Yea, I suppose,” Kimmon twists his mouth to the side, giving him a pensive look, “Wanna fuck me then?”

“W-what? Now?”

“Did you forget where we are?” he leans in closer, his fingers tightening around Copter’s wrists like a delicate vine around a pole, “You sure you don’t want to?”

His eyes are alluring and he has to fucking know this, Copter muses. Suddenly a scream comes from his right and his heart in his throat, scared that maybe he wasn't as careful as he thought he was. He turns his head towards the busy street. It's a group of drunk tourists not giving a shit that they're inappropriately acting out, laughing it up without a care in the world. One of them runs out in front of the pack, calling for their friends to take a photo in the middle of the street.

Wet lips press to the corner of Copter’s jaw then down his neck and he's so startled, gasping at the suddenness of it. He presses a hand to Kimmon's broad chest, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Mmm. Trying to convince you. You can do whatever you want to me. My gift to you for doing well tonight," he whispers a tempting heat across Copter's mouth, “Sound good?”

And _god_ , he remembers how those long legs looked naked on the bed, how he wanted them wrapped around his waist as he fucks into Kimmon’s tight heat. Watch him arch his slender neck back as the pleasure hits him in full force and bite that delectable collarbone.

He wants to say no, digging his nails into his palms and tries to resist. Kimmon slides a slow hand down Copter’s arm, seducing him with those long fingers that he had sucked off when Copter stained them all those weeks ago.

O how he wants it, he does. It’s one night, it’s only just once and it’s been so long since he’s slept with anyone and anyone as beautiful as Kimmon.

“Fine.”

The area is littered with love hotels, some more extravagant and avant garde compared to others. Kimmon takes him to one that is on the simpler side and checking in is a straightforward process, choosing one of the cheaper rooms available from a touch screen.

It’s a tense walk to their room, only growing bigger as they step closer and Copter thinks it’ll suffocate him. Once they step in through the open room and Kimmon slips a few banknotes into the small machine that locks the door, Copter’s shoved against it, door clicking behind him. Their tongues slide slick and hard. It’s the type of kiss that turns Copter on and Kimmon lets out a whimper when Copter pulls him in close, cocks roughly grinding. Bursts of pleasure break out down his spine and he wrenches his mouth away, ducking his head to line a wet arc of kisses along Kimmon’s neck.

He didn’t get to last time and god, it’s gorgeous how Kimmon tilts his head back, feeling the rapid heartbeat under his lips, the guttural groan. That curve of his neck is something artists from centuries ago study to draw and try to replicate with the skill of their hands but can’t.

Fingers card into his hair, pulling him back, "Get on the bed for me,” Kimmon softly utters.

The room is cramped, fitting only one bed that touches all three walls and a lamp in the corner of the room. Copter falls back onto the mattress, taking his shoes off and staring up at Kimmon’s imposing figure.

Giving him a small smile, Kimmon slips off his jacket till it falls to the floor, revealing the dark unbuttoned collared shirt he wears underneath, his bare neck leading to his collarbones. He looks like a supernatural creature that comes in the night, sucking out Copter’s soul.

“Why am I always the one to get naked before you?” he mutters, unbuttoning his top.

“You’re the one that’s eager," Copter focuses on the strip of skin that slowly reveals itself.

The smooth expanse of skin is completely exposed and under the one source of light, it makes him look even more otherworldly. Not insulted, Kimmon continues to remove his pants and steps out of them until he’s only in tight briefs, his long legs bare, “Guess you’re right.” He stretches his arms above his head and Copter is unable to stop his gaze from tracing the handsome form before him, down to Kimmon’s bare feet.

“You seem to like it though.”

Pausing, he glances up and the glee in Kimmon’s eyes are palpable.

“I can learn to appreciate it.”

“Mmhm, whatever you say.”

Kimmon jumps on top of Copter, thighs bracketing his legs and ass right on top of his hard cock. He hisses from the sudden touch and it doesn’t help that Kimmon keeps rocking downwards in a tantalizing motion. It’s a reverse of the last time they were together and he leans over Copter with a fierce kiss.

“Anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” he murmurs, biting down on Copter’s lips and caressing his hands all over.

A few, but it’s from people he’s long forgotten and aren’t relevant any more, a past that he’s pushed to the back of his mind. He’s no longer that same person and shit like that doesn’t matter, so he shakes his head and cradles Kimmon’s face closer to his. His mouth is soft and gorgeous, pliable under Copter’s tongue and their gasps intermingle, building up and up until he can’t fucking breathe. All he can focus on is the feel of Kimmon’s body right on him, as if they’re one and everything is narrowed to their lips, to the hands on his waist.

Kimmon pulls back with a sigh, and brings a hand up to caress Copter’s hair. He’s staring down Copter with an expression that he can’t read, maybe affection. At that, Copter shuts his eyes, he’s thinking crazy thoughts; if anything it’s lust. His wrists are brought up above his head, their fingers intertwining like they're lovers. Kimmon rocks his hips down and Copter's cock deliciously rubs just right and they both groan, "Didn’t expect you to be packing so much down there,” he grunts out, “Fuck.”

“Could get bigger.”

Kimmon laughs at that, still thrusting his ass against him and it’s good, it’s so fucking good and Copter thinks he might come from this goddamn dry humping like a teenager. How humiliating and yet, he doesn't care.

“Thought you said I could do whatever I want."

“And you will,” Kimmon sweetly says, his eyes turning up like crescents.

There’s a quiet snap above them and Copter realizes something is digging around his wrists and a sensation of strain to his arms. He glances up to see them in silver handcuffs wrapped around the smooth metal column of the headboard and how the hell? He doesn't know when Kimmon dragged these out, didn’t even notice.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Kimmon slides back off of him, heat travelling down Copter’s legs, and stands up, the mirth obvious in his chuckles.

“Kim. Mon.”

“Ah,” his hands are on his hips, smiling down at Copter like a fucking asshole, “And that’s what you get for stealing from me.”

Copter wants to yell. Or laugh. They haven’t come yet and here they are, both hard in their pants with Copter fucking handcuffed like an old man caught redhanded by his wife after found cheating with his mistress. Kimmon looks fucking stupid with his boner popping out against the seam of his briefs.

“You. Shot. Me.”

“And you stole from me! Tit for tat, yes?”

“You stole the diamonds!”

“You mean, I simply took them back. They were never yours to begin with and you killed my client.”

“Get me out of this,” Copter snaps.

"Nope." Kimmon pulls up his pants, the black denim tight around his thighs, "I'm just punishing you for a little bit."

“I’m going to shoot you dead. Then bring you to life to stab you until you’re _dead_. And bring you to li--”

“Yes, yes, bring me to life again,” Kimmon waves a dismissive hand, buttoning his shirt halfway. He leans over Copter with a wicked smile, “Next time you can fuck me however you like, ok? I promise, I pinky promise,” and he hooks his pinky to Copter’s, hands still trapped in its confinement. Copter yanks his hands away, wishing he can somehow choke Kimmon with these fucking handcuffs.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Uh huh.”

Then he kisses Copter's brow with a reverent brush of his lips, rubbing a thumb to his cheek.

“Don’t worry darling,” he taps a finger to Copter’s mouth, “I made it very easy for you, see?” He holds out a small key that’s laid on the palm of his hand and kisses it before placing it on the center of Copter’s chest, “You can figure it out."

Copter glares. All he wants is to punch that smug smile off his face.

Stepping back, Kimmon cards his hand through his dark locks and bends down to pick up his jacket.

“I have to go to Kuala Lumpur now, maybe you can find me there. In fact, I hope you do find me.”

“Don’t fuck--”

"But I'll shoot you in the head if you steal from me again," and he steps out, the door locking shut behind him.

\--

Copter never does find Kimmon in Kuala Lumpur because he never flies over, but he knows that moment in the love hotel isn’t the last.

He takes a few jobs around Europe. Berlin involved killing a man who kidnapped his client’s daughter. In Zagreb, he went after a corrupt banker in his apartment with the use of a garrote. Prague and Rome both involved assassinating hedge fund managers who had snuck away to these cities in hopes of hiding, but they never hid their locations very well.

Each city was beautiful and he left death in its wake.

Despite his exhaustion, Tee sends him off to his next mission closer to home.

Singapore is a cosmopolitan city, the mix of East and West architecture that Copter finds fascinating and has fond memories of. But he’s not here to sight see.

His next target is some filthy rich businessman who mixed in with the wrong crowd and fucked with the wrong crowd. Tee commented on how high the contract was, somewhere in the millions and that he’s not the only one to take it.

Not that that’s a problem for Copter, he relishes in the competition. Planning out how to take his mark down and the rush on beating everybody else, there's nothing else like it. Though the high price of the contract would bring in the more mature professionals, he knows he could just be as good as them as long as he carefully plans it out.

Tonight, he’s in attendance at a swanky five star hotel, filled with dignitaries, celebrities, businessmen, anyone important and mostly with pockets full of money. It’s someone’s birthday party or some engagement party. Quite frankly, Copter doesn’t know or care to know. Whichever it is, the celebration is extravagant, a disguise for anyone to make business contacts and shady deals.

Sheer white fabric stretches and hangs from the high ceiling, held by green vines and fairy lights. A whole load of tall white vases scatter throughout the room, filled with white blooms of some flower and fountains of champagne being poured. The spectacular view of the Singapore river glistens outside the windows, only adding to the opulent nature of those in attendance, that only those with money could enjoy this.

It’s decadent and sickening at the same time.

Copter remembers as a kid hiding under the tables, away from the eyes of the affluent, and playing card games with his sisters which they had snuck in. It’s the only thing he misses from these parties, the shushes and laughters from them when they get nearly caught from some passing server. The smile from his mother’s face when she finds them and shaking her head at their silliness.

He’s by the bar, sipping on water of course -- can’t be drinking on the job after all. Music is booming through the surround speakers and people are dancing it up on the small dance floor by the stage where a deejay is. It’s been an hour since he showed up and finding his target was rather quick. The man is the center of attention after all at his table.

His target hasn’t left his booth, arm around the shoulders of a tall woman. He’s jovial and loud, bragging about his wealth, his boat, his three mansions around Southeast Asia, and the expensive apartment he has in Singapore. Copter wonders if he’d give the woman mercy by walking over and shooting the man square in the face with how vomit inducing it all is.

She turns to a passing server, waving him down, and Copter nearly drops his glass when he realizes who it is. Her back had been facing him the entire time and he didn’t question her presence, assuming her to be someone that caught the target’s stare or his date.

It’s not obvious at first, but he recognizes the curve of that neck that leads to the sharp jaw and refined profile. He had his desperate lips all over it, dreaming and craving for another taste of it someday.

Kimmon brings a manicured hand up to cover his mouth as he demurely laughs at whatever the target is saying, who is staring at him with such a besotted look. Copter doesn’t blame him. He’s alluring after all, his long black hair lending a mysterious air about him and his makeup only enhances his elegant features.

It doesn’t surprise Copter that Kimmon would be the type to reveal his face to his targets. Copter prefers staying far and observing, killing from behind when they least suspect it. It’s too risky otherwise in the event that they survive and Kimmon’s disguise, while beautiful, shows his face out in the open and it makes Copter uncomfortable with all the people surrounding them. He’s too striking and yet here he is, practically dangling himself like a beacon, a female praying mantis ready to devour her mate.

Copter almost feels sorry for the guy.

Kimmon leans over, red glossy lips moving as he whispers something into the man’s ear. To anyone, it seems intimate. Lovers ready to call it a night and skip the rest of the festivities to head to their room.

They stand and Kimmon towers over the target, the black cocktail dress showing off his svelte legs in black stockings. His bare shoulders and collarbones are emphasized by the off the shoulder sleeves that are snug tight around his upper arms. All in all, Copter understands why the target is so taken with him. Kimmon smiles down at the man -- who is saying goodbye to his friends and announcing he was going up to his room for the night -- and grabs for his hand, looking every much the perfect date. Copter watches them like a hawk as they wind their way through the crowd.

He waits there, unsure of how to proceed. It’s clear that he won’t be the one to make the kill, which is unfortunate.

But something in the pit of his stomach tells him to follow. He knows Kimmon doesn’t need help, he’s been doing this for so long. It’s utterly careless to even go near that man and there are cameras all over the building, and yet--

After counting to twenty, he slides out of his bar stool and hastens towards the lobby where the elevators are. It’s a hassle, but he knows his way around a crowd, gliding near the columns. He runs out to the lobby and for a moment he panics that he’s lost them. Everyone is dressed to the nines here, all heading in towards or leaving the venue, but then he catches a glimpse of long black hair. He knows those legs anywhere.

They haven’t stepped in the elevator yet and once it slides open the man pushes Kimmon forward. Copter rushes in before the doors could close and Kimmon’s expression doesn’t change when their eyes flick toward each other. Gulping in a gasp of air, Copter bends forward and takes in another breath.

“Are you ok there?” the man asks in perfect English.

“Yes, fine," Copter stands up, adjusting his tie, "Just worried I was going to miss getting in. Gotta piss real bad, you know how it is.”

Both he and the man chuckle. Kimmon’s face remains impassive.

“What’s your floor?”

Copter glances over at the panel, making a show of carefully looking at the buttons, “O, looks like we’re on the same one.”

“Nice.”

The man continues to make small conversation with him and Copter can’t help but glance at the side mirror that Kimmon's staring into. Their eyes meet again, but this time Copter sees the twinkle in his eye and whatever worry that had been brewing through his mind calms down.

They finally reach their floor, the elevators smoothly opening and Copter walks out first. The man places a hand on the small of Kimmon’s back as they step out, “It was nice to meet you, have a good night.”

Copter nods his head and suddenly Kimmon bumps into him, dropping a small clutch and a few things fall out of it.

“I’m sorry,” Kimmon murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, and they both bend down to pick up the fallen objects back into his purse. The man sighs, a bit exasperated, and waits, tapping his shoe to the marble.

“It’s fine,” Copter picks up a lipstick that’s rolled away, handing it over to him.

Kimmon’s hands clasps his, “Thank you,” and his gaze pierces Copter for a moment, before he stands and turns towards his target, “Sorry about that darling,” he purrs out in soft Mandarin, rubbing a hand to the man’s broad chest in penance, “I’m just a silly clutz.”

That softens him up and his hold on Kimmon's waist tightens as they leave the elevator lobby. Copter watches them turn right, towards where the suites are, and he presses the ‘down’ button of the elevator.

He knows there’s nothing he can do here now. No point in risking his neck nor Kimmon’s who has a clear handle on it. But at least he can head to the hotel that Kimmon’s staying at, slipping the keycard that Kimmon handed over to him into his jacket pocket.

\--

Copter starts at hearing the door open and glances to his right to see Kimmon shutting it close. The black wig he had donned has been replaced by a silvery blonde wig, one that also reaches his waist. He pauses once he sees Copter splayed out on the bed, a bright smile gracing his face like he’s actually happy to see him.

“It’s been so long.”

“Hm.”

Kimmon undoes the belt of his black trench coat, where it’s cinched around his waist, “You’ve settled yourself quite nicely.”

“The shower has good water pressure,” Copter quips, crossing his ankles over each other. Despite washing himself up, he’s back in his own clothes. Kimmon takes a quick glance around the room. A loud succession of honks zooms pass by; the busy street outside has not quieted in the time Copter stayed here, but he's grown used to it.

“Surprised you didn’t rob me yet."

"I did. Took your underwear,” Copter stretches his legs out, “Who wears boxers with puppies on them?”

Kimmon huffs and dumps his jacket onto the chair beside him. Copter settles in further against the pillows and gives him an obvious once over, "Looks like you succeeded.”

He’s still wearing the black dress, all tight in the right places, and his bare shoulders are hidden under his hair but Copter sees the sliver of it leading to his collarbones. He licks his bottom lip at how the black stockings look on those legs. Wonders how Kimmon looked as he put it on. Did he bend one leg on the chair or stand on one leg as he slipped it on one leg at a time?

Copter shifts his legs.

“Never knew what hit him. Poor guy was naked, but…” and Kimmon shrugs, like he’s talking about a casual long day at work.

He steps forward onto the bed, the soft bedding yielding under pantyhose covered foot. Copter follows the line of his shapely calves to the black lace that end around his inner thighs. He wants a bite of that soft skin and bruise it with his teeth.

A hand wraps under his chin and he’s pulled up to face Kimmon. The wig of his makes him look more stunning than ever, sharpening his features. His eye make-up is slightly smudged and his lips are smeared at the corner, despite the obvious fix up. The target clearly had a good time before he died.

"Now, didn't I promise you that you can do whatever you wanted with me?"

"Yea," Copter whispers and sits up on his knees until their eyes are leveled. He notices that Kimmon's makeup covers his moles and wipes a rough thumb across his cheek. It smudges a little, but it's not enough and he finds it strange.

"What're you doing?"

"You…nothing."

Copter leans forward, mouths meeting in a soft kiss. It's not like the others before, but slow as if they're taking the time to know each other. He licks Kimmon's lips, tasting his lipstick and teasing him to part them; he does, their slick tongues twining in the heat of their mouths. Copter brings his hands up to Kimmon bare shoulders, slipping his hand under the off the shoulder sleeves. His hard muscles move under Copter's hands and he digs his blunt nails into them before flipping Kimmon backwards onto the bed.

His hair is sprawled across the pillows and he looks like a fallen angel that had sinned, body all contorted with his knees bent up and tight skirt exposing more of his thighs. There’s a peek of where the stockings end, tight around his upper thighs, and something in Copter’s chest turns feral at the sight of the soft skin under the dress.

“You fucker,” he mutters as he unbuckles his belt, “Dressing like this. You even realize what you look like?”

Kimmon sits back on his elbows, staring at Copter with sharp eyes and a cocky smirk to his red stained lips. Upon a closer look, dark marks are scattered along his neck and further beyond his collarbone, hidden under his dress. Christ, that target had been insatiable and Kimmon looks beyond sultry like this.

“You like it, don’t lie.”

"Shut up."

Copter throws his pants to the side and starts to unbutton his top, but his fingers shake and twist into each other. Kimmon kneels up, gentle hands over his, “Sshhh, calm down.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hmm,” Kimmon presses the black plastic buttons through the buttonholes, his red nails flashing every once in a while. He raises his eyes. The mascara around them is dark and thick, his eyes look so big from this angle, “It’s ok to admit if you like me this way.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Kimmon pushes the shirt off, his fingers tickling Copter’s arms as he does and once it’s off, he brings them up around Copter’s neck, “Come to me.”

And he does, Copter lays him back onto the bed, pinning him down and Kimmon hitches a leg up around him, grinding their hips together. The air between them gets muggy and hot fast, the sound of their wet lips and his clever tongue right up against Copter’s is all he can hear. It’s scorching and Copter swears butterflies are floating inside of him. His hands fit around the curve of Kimmon’s waist, dragging him closer.

They kiss long, languid, a smooth swipe of tongues. It had been quite cool in the room due to the air condition being on to withstand the humidity outside, but now it’s hot, too hot despite him only being in boxers. With one last lingering kiss, he pulls back and stares down into Kimmon’s eyes.

“You looked handsome today,” Kimmon murmurs, eyes shining and boring up into Copter. He looks softer now, his high from his kill more subdued, “Never thought you’d look like that in a suit, it’s dangerous,” he scratches a finger down Copter’s neck. Copter looks away then, deigning to stare at the shape of those collarbones to his shoulders. The black top is a stark contrast to his bare skin, which seemingly glows gold under the dim light above the bed. He rubs a thumb over one of the many dark marks that was left behind and Kimmon hitches a breath, biting his lip.

“You got stuff?”

“Of course, in my jacket,” and he sits up but Copter pushes him back, “I’ll get it. Just take off your clothes.”

He doesn’t think he can watch Kimmon remove the dress otherwise he’d go mad watching and takes his time going over each pocket, until he finds the silver packets in an inner one. But when he turns around, he realizes what a terrible idea that was. He’d hope Kimmon would be naked, but of course he wasn’t.

The dress is on the floor in a dark heap and he’s laid on his side, leaning against an elbow as he waits for Copter. He’s stunned to see the lacey underwear that somehow covers his cock well enough, the dark purple flowers on the lace pattern looking like bruises on his skin. His black stockings are still on, showing off the shape of his long, muscular legs and Copter can now see they end mid thigh, tight around them.

He looks stunning.

Copter throws the packet of lube and condoms onto the bed and climbs onto the bed.

“Thought I told you to get naked.”

“Did you? You told me to remove my clothes and I did,” Kimmon looks like he’s reveling in being a nitpicky asshole. Not saying a word, Copter rubs a hand across his chest, rolling a dusky nipple between his fingers. Kimmon lets out a slight whimper, twitching his upper body from the slight stimulation. There’s a teeth mark near there and Copter presses his nail to it, glancing to see more bruises around the other nipple and further down.

“That guy marked you all over.”

“Jealous?” his smirk widens, a white flash of teeth.

“You wish,” Copter retorts and drags his hand down the length of Kimmon’s body. “He went for it though.”

“Aw, you care?”

Copter glares and then grips the bulge through the lace, squeezing his fist tight. Kimmon lets out a shuddering gasp, “ _O_. Fu- _uck_.”

He massages it for a bit, feeling it grow wet and harder, and then rubs his hand along Kimmon’s thighs, spreading both of his legs back. The lace covers his hole in a teasing way, a thin layer of fabric right over it and he sees it twitching, begging to be filled. But he notices something else.

“He fucked you?”

“...Maybe.”

And the thing is, Copter’s not jealous. He swears he isn’t, it’s part of the job after all and he’s slept with his fair share, trying to obtain information for his missions. But an itch grows within him anyways, the thought of Kimmon sleeping with him after fucking and killing his target is aggravating.

“You slut,” he hisses, ripping the fabric until it’s in pieces. Something lights up in Kimmon’s eyes at that and he cackles, hiccuping gasps, “You’re paying for that.”

“I don’t care.” He grips the back of Kimmon’s thighs tight, fingers digging into him, until his ass is presented up in the air ready to be taken. Kimmon’s shaved most of his hair off and it’s so smooth, the lube glistens all over his hole like it’s beckoning Copter. He spits into it, adding to the slick mess and Kimmon holds his own legs back, forcing Copter’s hands off.

“Eat me out.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He bites the brown scar that marks Kimmon’s thigh.

“ _Ah_ ,” Kimmon moans, “But you want to, don’t you?” He rubs his hole with a few fingers, spreading the spit around, mixing it with the lube that’s already there. His red nails are bright and stark against it. He slips a finger in and whimpers, body taut in the barely there pleasure.

It's been a while since Copter ate anyone out. Taking the time to pull someone apart before fucking them. Sex is quick and easy now -- the main focus being that he acquires the necessary information from them. The last time was probably when he was eighteen before his world changed.

“Please.”

“Shut _up_.”

Copter ducks his head and laves a tongue down Kimmon’s balls, tonguing small circles against the soft skin and where his precome has dripped down. A hand cards through his hair and he keeps licking downwards, sucking and tasting the sharp mix of precome and lube. His hole is glossy and slick, dusky -- Copter presses his finger there, spreading it apart and watches it clench around nothing.

“You’re fucking begging for it.”

“Come on,” Kimmon hiccups out, all high pitched, sucking the tip of his finger into his mouth and rubbing the ball of his foot to Copter’s back, “Let me have it."

He tears a packet of lube, letting it drip everywhere down his palm and wrist then spreads those cheeks apart. It’s so pretty, so tempting and Copter dips his tongue in, pushing wet fingers to the edge. It’s soft and easily gives in from whatever was done to Kimmon earlier. Above, a guttural groan echoes and Kimmon twitches his hips upwards. Copter seals his mouth over it, tongue right into the wet, soft warmth, fucking him with four fingers. The cadence of Kimmon’s breathing rises and falls, his voice pleading _more more more_. The loud squelch of lube and spit is all he hears over the sound of begging and it's hard to breathe, Kimmon tightening his thighs around his head. Kimmon keeps moaning nonsense under his breath and Copter's sure he can fist him with how smoothly his fingers glide in. His cock hardens at that thought.

But he wants to see his come all over that ass, so Copter wrenches his hand out and pulls back. Kimmon’s fingers reach out for his face but he sits up and fuck -- Kimmon’s a wreck, his eyes shine with lust, strands of blond hair cover his cheek and his lips are bitten red. He’s the most exquisite thing Copter’s ever seen, more than the diamond he had retrieved in Dubai a few years back.

“Mmm. Need a cock in me,” his voice soft and dreamy, "'M so empty."

“O?” Copter takes the condom and lubes up his cock, “Want me to grab a stranger off the street to fuck you?”

“ _No_ , give me your cock, dumbass,” Kimmon laughs, the light sound of it fluttering around, and rubs a foot on Copter’s hip, the smooth satin of it tickling him, “Don’t be dense.”

“You’ve been fucked already. So greedy,” he mutters and sits up, pushing Kimmon’s legs back once again.

“Can never have enough,” Kimmon smiles and cradles his hands around Copter’s face, rubbing a thumb to his cheek, “Did I ever tell you that dimples are my favorite thing?”

“That’s what you want to talk about?”

“I’m just letting you know,” he continues on airily, “Now fuck me.”

After finger fucking Kimmon until he’s sopping wet, Copter lines up their hips and with barely much resistance, his cock slides inside. It feels remarkable and despite being fucked earlier, he’s still so deliciously tight. Copter grits his teeth, trying not to come, and droops his head towards Kimmon’s neck, fingers digging into those thighs. He bites into the soft skin and feels the vibrations of Kimmon’s groans against his lips. Once he’s all the way in, Kimmon pulls his head up, breathing sweetly into his mouth, wicked tongue pressed against his. It’s a dirty kiss and he fucks a harsh rhythm into that vice.

“Did he fuck you good like this?” he grunts out, the sound of their naked skin slapping echoes in the room.

“Maybe,” Kimmon gasps, his hands gripping the pillow beneath him, “ _Ah_!” There’s a mindless desperation in his voice, “Deeper, deeper get in me deeper, _fuckfuckfuck_.”

He’s babbling more dirty words like he’s in a porno, dusty pink nipples taut and the red flush travels from his face down his body. Kimmon’s glowing and Copter sears this image into his mind. Nails are digging crescents into his shoulders and he tastes something sanguine across his tongue when their lips brush each other. He bends his head down and bites down on a nipple, slicking his tongue across the peaked bud.

“Shit shit shit ogodogod, mm _aah_. Your cock is-- _oh._ ”

And Kimmon comes, squeezing tight around Copter and it’s so fucking good. He’s slurring something that’s incomprehensible and Copter pulls his cock out, tearing his condom off and wraps his fist around it. It’s deliciously wet now, adding to his sensitivity and he keeps pulling, tugging hard and Kimmon outstretches his hand to massage his balls.

“Turn around for me,” Copter pants out and Kimmon obeys, albeit a little slow. His pert ass is in Copter’s face and his black stockings are right _there_ , all silky and tight around his thighs. He reaches down, spreading those ass cheeks apart. It’s so fucked raw and red, he pushes a thumb against the rim and Kimmon moans into his pillow, thrusting his hips back.

His come spatters across the lacey edge and it’s stunning how it looks across the fucked out hole and his stockings, dripping come. Copter smears it around, wanting it to somehow get immersed into Kimmon, under his skin. He gives one last rub across Kimmon’s hole and then collapses next to him, exhausted and warm, taking in deep breaths.

“You’ll need to pay me back for ruining my pantyhouse.”

“Hm.”

The mattress shifts and the warmth behind him disappears. Copter hears the squeaky sound of the tap opening and water running. It feels like Kimmon drained out all the energy in him and he throws his condom to the floor, wincing at how disgusting it sounds as it splats on the tile.

He’s lulled into a lucid sleep from the soothing sound of running water. It’s been so long since he’s been able to sleep relaxed like this.

A wet towel is thrown onto his back and he turns over to see Kimmon wearing only his briefs now, sans wig and ruined stockings, his make up washed off. He looks normal and yet Copter thinks he prefers this Kimmon, all barenaked and himself.

Murmuring a thanks, he takes the towel and wipes himself down of all the come and lube that had gotten a bit tacky. Kimmon hums and climbs back into the bed, lifting up the stiff sheets from where it’s neatly folded to the mattress.

“How was it?” Copter tosses the towel to the ground.

“What are you, in high school?”

“Compared to him?” Not caring how he sounds like asking such a question and he lays back onto his pillow, avoiding Kimmon’s stare.

The silence is deafening and Copter's sure Kimmon is laughing at him inside his head. A warmth surrounds him and lips brush his cheek.

"He never fucked me, not even close," Kimmon's fingers delicately move in a circular pattern across Copter's chest, "Only you," he murmurs the words into his neck, pressing his lips there. Copter stares at the mottled ceiling.

It sounds like a lie coming from him, but he snuggles into Copter, breath steadying out and he falls asleep fast.

He lays there listening to it, stroking his hand across Kimmon’s neck. Copter could grip it, choke him to death if he wants, watch those beguiling eyes of Kimmon's bulge out as he tries to get his breath back and feel the bones break under his palm. The headlights from the cars in the street below move through the see-through curtains, lighting the room up with dulled white beams of light. Sleep overtakes him, fingers curled into Kimmon's thick hair.

When Copter wakes up, the bed sheet is over him and up to his neck, keeping him warm.

Kimmon and his things are gone aside from a note.

_You can return the boxers to me later_

\--

And that’s how it starts.


End file.
